Who Are You?
by Torn Apart Paper Dinosaur
Summary: AR/BN My name is Alex Rider. I used to be a spy except now I have nothing. Bottom line? Until you figure out who burned you...your're not going anywhere. Is this Alex's last mission? And will he find out who burned him? R&R
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hey guys, second story. Have never done a Burn Notice fiction or an Alex Rider fiction. But I will try my best. **

CHAPTER: 1

It was a Friday night in Miami, so that means lots of parting and endless drinks until you pass out. Normally the streets would be full with people, trying to get home, off to another club, or friends house. But there wasn't anyone really out tonight, it was pretty late, but that was not the reason. The reason being simple, rain; what sane person would be walking out in the rain on a May night? When they could be spending it getting a fix or trying the newest creation your favorite bartender made.

The answer, a man, well early twenties by the looks of his height. Who was silently walking down the street. Literally in the street, and not really walking, more like stumbling and staggering here and there. He had his hood up so you couldn't see his face. He was drenched as if he had been walking for a while. He coughed and stumbled to the right, most likely tripping on his own feet, almost landing face first, but caught himself, barely. Yep this was just another drunk, trying to get home, hopeful that they are going the right way. He put his hand to his head and rubbed his face in an act to remember something.

He was mumbling incoherent words, some slurred together, some not. All the while watching the ground, desperately trying not to fall over his clumsy feet; his shoes blended into the dark street below him.

"…..Have….get….can't…." He suddenly stopped trying to make his mind work and looked up. He was now in a neighborhood, he stumbled yet again, only this time on a curb. When he was set up right again he was in front of a house. The house is on a corner, from the looks of it a cream colored stone with two stories. The porch light is on, and he staggers towards it.

Not having any trouble except when he actually came up to the house. It had three concrete stairs leading on to the deck, and to his goal, the door. He bent his head down to glance at the stairs, and then back up. Acting as if he could make it up the stairs without even looking at them, and he did just that. Well the railing did help a little; he took one step at a time, the whole procedure gazing forward into the big brown door.

When he made it to the top he lifted his foot again, as if to go up one more step. But to his displeasure all he met was air. He finally looked back down to discover his problem, and soon after stopped trying to reach the invisible step. He kept his head down as he crossed the deck a few feet to meet the door.

He knocked three solid times before putting his hand in his pocket. A light flickered on as soon as the knocking subsided. Everything was pretty quiet for the next minute or so. The guy just waited until there was a loud, "HOLD ON."

And he still waited, his eyes at his feet again. There was a jumble of locks being undone, until finally the door was pulled open. Standing in the path of getting inside was a middle aged woman who had spiky white blonde hair. She was wearing a pink robe.

"Can I help you?" She asked with a raised eyebrow as she lit a cigarette.

"A…place..to…..stay." His head was still down, but his voice came in short, slurred syllables.

The lady just sighed and took a long drag of her cigarette before blowing the smoke away from them. "Right, well come on in, no use on letting the air out." She told him as she moved away from the door to give him room to come in.

He took a minute to realize she had said yes, and he slowly made his way inside. She shut the door with a bang. And the door clicked, letting all the locks seal in place.

*break*

The lump underneath the blankets of the twin sized bed contained a young man. He stretched before faltering, and freezing all together.

He didn't move for another ten minutes. Breathing low, as if he went back to sleep, but he was far from that, no he would not rest in this strange environment. All the while making his senses take in his surroundings. When he realized that there wasn't anyone in the room with him, he came to a decision.

In one movement he was out of bed and up against the nearest wall. Missing the nightstand by an inch, his hair a dark brown tussled here and there. His outfit consumes of a light wash jean, and a gray tank top. He even had kept his shoes on, which were black converse. The most shocking thing about his structure, would be his face. Slim but still held a strong masculine build to it, and then the eyes.

His eyes weren't normal, to say the least. And certainly not the skin around them, being a whitish red color. Outlining both of his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His actual eyes though were a light brown, or hazel, directly around the pupil. Also the pupil itself wasn't a graphite black, more like a shadowy gray, as in it is suppose to be darker. The iris was sort of greenish color, and the tear duct is a bright red, looking agitated. But over all his eyes were blurry and not glossy. And that was exactly what he was seeing.

Everywhere he looked, all he saw was blobs and his vision was blurry and inaccurate. He put his hand up to his eyes and rubbed them. Big mistake. They burned, feeling like his eyes were on fire he quickly pulled away his hand in attempt to stop the pain. It did nothing, though it did stop from progressing to worse amounts of pain.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall and silently slid down. He raked his fingers through his hair trying to calm himself down. It wasn't working too well.

He tried to remember what happened to him, to get him here. But all he could see was this big blur, nothing was coming clear, most like his vision. All the sudden he heard talking. He couldn't make out the voices, but one was male and the other female. He got up slowly all the while looking at the door. Though it didn't help much, but he had to concentrate.

He was in a room he wasn't familiar with, and he didn't even know where here was; much less how he got here. Once he was up off the ground, he made his way towards the door. Just about to reach for the handle when he felt as if he was forgetting something?

Now he remembered, his sweatshirt. He scanned the room, and to his disappointment couldn't find it; or rather see it. So his next option was the thing closest to him. He picked it up and threw it on. He felt it and it turned out to be leather, it would work. He looked in the pockets and found some sunglasses. They might be useful because he didn't even want to know how he looked if he couldn't see properly, and the sun might damage his eyesight even more.

He then reached towards the back of his waistband and pulled out a nine millimeter blue finished handgun. Checked and felt that he had only three bullets, which meant he had already used four previously. On what or whom he couldn't locate in his mind, guess all things come in good time.

So equipped with a black leather jacket, which fit him perfectly except a little too long in the arms. A pair of thin black framed sunglasses; and his gun, ready and loaded. He silently unlocked the door and slid into the hallway.

He glanced around, it didn't come in help much, as he couldn't see. So he turned to another important sense. Hearing. He silently shifted the gun in his hands and walked oh so carefully down the hallway.

He didn't even bother stopping and checking all the doors leading to other rooms. He knew that there were only two people in the house, and they were downstairs. So traveling though the hallway, and meeting the stairs. He knew it was a bad idea to go down the stairs when you couldn't see. But what other option did he have, he certainly wasn't stupid enough to jump out the second story window. On second thought…. No he couldn't, well he could and risk breaking his leg because he landed on it wrong, not being able to see the ground.

So he just stuck with the stairs, though the railing did help, yeah the invisible railing that no matter if he could see or not, would never find. What kind of stairs doesn't have a railing, are they trying to kill the blind people, and seems like it. He took a breath and guessed that there were eight to ten stairs in total, so with that in mind he started his first step downward.

He counted with each step he took.

One.

Two.

Three. Four.

Five. Wait what was that noise? It sounded like it came from the other side of the house, a door shutting. Maybe a back door, but it sounded softer.

He took the next few steps quickly but quietly. Six. Seven. Eight. Nin-.

He almost tripped because he was already on the ground. And his head hurt, as if he couldn't see already the dizziness just added to it. Making everything a tinted gray, from the sunglasses, and hazy.

He took a silent deep breath and continued slowly around the corner, ready for anything. He walked against the wall, using it as a guide and just followed the voices.

They were louder now, and he could tell he was in the same room as they were. Maybe it was all connected into one large room because they were farther away.

"Alright Mom. But let me tell you I am right." A taller man said he had short brown hair, his face held a masculine look and he was also wearing sunglasses. Though the blind man couldn't tell this, well because he was blind.

"Fine Michael, do whatever you want. But don't come to me when you get arrested." An older lady said as she took a drag of a cigarette and then put it out.

The man had just listened to their conversation, all the while slowly making his way over to them.

"Glad, we are on the same page Mom. Hey listen I got to go but I will call you later. How does that sound?" Michael asked his Mother.

"Yes that's fine Michael, but don't forget to call." His Mother told him as she lit another cigarette.

That's when he slipped out of the shadows. He made his way to what he assumed was the door way. And looked towards the closest person which just so happened to be Michael.

Michael froze when he saw him. Not knowing who he was he reached for his gun in his waistband.

"Don't move." The man said in a harsh voice. He had his gun up as soon as he moved, pointed directly at his face, in between the eyes.

Michael put his hands in the air, and spread his fingers out. His face all the sudden serious. "Ok, let's just calm down. What do you want?"

"I want to know where I am. How I got here, and who you are." The man told Michael, showing no emotion at all.

"Miami." Michael told him.

"Specifics." The man said.

Michael just glanced at his Mother, weary of answering the question. The man spoke up. "I already know where you live, so just give me the street name."

"North River Dr." Michael established.

The man just nodded before asking. "How did I get here?"

Michael just glanced at his Mother for the answer because honestly he didn't know. His Mother just took a drag of her cigarette. "Please refrain from moving." The man told her.

"Ok," She told him before answering his question. "You came here, drunk Friday night. And I let you in."

Michael just looked at her as if she was crazy with both of his eyebrows raised. He was just about to say something, but the guy holding them hostage beat them to it.

"That can't be right, I would never…. I need to go." He told them both before turning on his heal and walking swiftly out of the kitchen. He stayed close to the wall, and he made his way through the dining room before stopping again.

"Don't even think about it." He told Michael, who had reached again for his gun. Only stopping when the stranger clicked the safety off of his gun. "If either one of you tries to follow me, there will consequences. I am leaving. Now." And he quickly made his way to the door, doing his best to avoid furniture, and slipped out the front door.

#break#

**AN: There is the first chapter, how was it…..tell me by hitting the review button!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Here is the second chapter, though it is short, the next one will be longer. **

**My regards to the following people, who reviewed and I could not PM back:**

**Albany:**** I am bad at Spanish, but that is what the translator is for. Thank you, and there will be a lot more mystery coming, and here is the update.**

**Me myself:**** Interesting name, I almost thought it said, Me Myself and I. But sadly not. Still a cool name, thank you for reviewing, and here is the next chapter.**

**KayKit: ****Thanks! Hopefully it gets more interesting. ;P**

**And these are the people who alerted this story, and I could not thank:**

**Countless Cullen: ****Thank you for alerting my story. **

**Pygmyeese:**** I know I already thanked you, but I wanted to do it again! Thanks, and I did get a beta. So hopefully you will not find any errors.**

**And a big THANK YOU! For my beta- Dark Rook. Couldn't have done this with out you!  
><strong>

**Sorry for the lengthy authors note, onto the chapter.**

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><p>The door closed with a barely audible click. Michael just put his hands down to his sides, the threat not staring him in the face now, and looked towards his Mother. "What do you mean you let him in?"<p>

"That's exactly what I did; he came knocking on the door Friday morning asking for help and a place to stay." His Mother said as she took another drag of her cigarette.

Michael just sighed. "Really Mom, really? You let some stranger in your house. And you didn't think he would kill you in the middle of the night?"

"Yes, really Michael. When he came in I showed him his room, and he locked the door as soon as he got in. And he didn't even show his face until this morning." His Mom explained to him as she took a drink of her tea. "You know I may not seem like it, but I can protect myself. You don't have to worry about me."

"Well I wouldn't worry about you if you didn't go and let drunken people in at night. Especially if they have a gun!" Michael told his Mom while he dug in his pocket to get his phone.

"Well sorry, he didn't really go waving it around stating 'hey look at my gun.' Are you sure it's not one of yours that you left in the guest room?" His Mother asked him.

"I am pretty sure; I think I would have recognized my own gun." Michael said.

"So are you going to follow him?" She asked as she lit another cigarette.

"Yes, but I have no idea who he is." Michael said as he dialed a number and put the phone up to his ear as it rung.

"Hey Mikey, what's up?" A guy on the other line asked.

"We have a problem Sam; I need you and Fiona to help me out on this one." Michael told Sam.

"Ok, let me just finish my beer, and we will meet somewhere to talk." Sam told him.

"Right. Thanks Sam." Michael then hung up.

"Well if you find anything out, tell me." His Mother told him.

"Will do Mom." Michael said as he ran out the back door.

* * *

><p>The man just closed the door lightly before putting his gun away. He started jogging in a random direction. Now with him being blind, you would suspect that he couldn't see where he was going. And you would be right, but this man was far from blind. At least in his mind.<p>

He has memorized all of Miami, as if it was the back of his hand. So he was headed towards a shortcut that would lead him to the warehouse, where he spent all of his time. However, with his memory fading in and out, and his impaired eyesight, he decided against it.

Instead, he slowed down to a brisk walk, and headed for the shops. At least until he could gather what had happened to him. His eyes not being that big of deal, though, he would probably kill the person that did it to him. The thing that was pulling at the back of his mind was why on Earth would he just knock on some stranger's door? He was pretty sure he wasn't dying, because he couldn't feel any new wounds on him. So except for his eyesight being nonexistent, he was in a pretty good state.

He wanted to remember what he was thinking Friday night - waltzing into a random house, without any background knowledge at all. That didn't seem like him. Well, maybe it did. But he usually had a good reason, at least at the beginning. If his plan ended up going south the majority of the time wasn't his fault.

He crossed the street when he couldn't hear any cars coming. He stayed away from all the shops, not wanting to accidentally run into someone or get sidetracked and forget where he was going.

Now there were two problems that could trigger his memory of Friday night.

_Wait, why did that lady or Michaels mom I guess, say Friday night? _He thought. _Why not say last night? Today is Saturday, right? No, can't be, then she would have said last night. _Did that mean he had slept or passed out for more than one day?

He would have laughed at the thought if this wasn't a serious situation, him sleeping a full day away. Like that was ever going to happen. However, if he puts two and two together he couldn't deny the facts. He had wasted a full day. What didn't make sense was why.

Michaels mother had said he was drunk and he did remember being dizzy, but he knew how to hold his liquor. Even if he did have a few drinks, he wouldn't have gone far enough to make his brain wired, especially to the point where he couldn't even remember what happened that night. Or pass out for a whole day, for that matter. He had never passed out from drinking too much; he had not passed out in any normal way for a while. So what was up?

The next problem nagging him would be the gun, and when, where, and how he got it. The time would have to have been on Friday, probably at night after his memory had trailed off. Where he got it was a complete mystery. There was no way, not in a million years, for it to have been obtained in a trade off. He might have been a little drunk, but he would never trade his one of a kind gun for this piece of shit currently weighing him down. That meant he had lost his gun and stole this sad piece of machinery to make up for it. And the how….well, as he found out a second ago, he stole it. Why would he have paid? He had certainly come to the conclusion that the gun wasn't his; he had always carried a USP compact nine millimeter V2 hand gun, not this nine millimeter blue finished handgun.

There were a few things that set the guns apart, one of them being the blue finished gun was a piece of trash. Also, the V2 was twice the price. The more expensive the gun the better it fires, reducing jamming, and lasts longer. Though he was taught to pick up any gun and have alarming accuracy, it didn't change the fact that he went through a lot with that gun, both with what he did to get it and when he carried it. The blue finished gun held only one magazine with seven bullets. He wasn't surprised that he had used four of the bullets for a prior situation. Whoever he had shot at had probably deserved it. In comparison, the V2 could hold thirteen rounds in a magazine and had a total of _three _magazines. Simple math told him that the V2 could hold close to six times that of the blue finished gun. And why buy or steal a cheap gun that contained less than a fifth of the bullets of his old one? It didn't make sense.

Now for his last matter at hand which he considered fairly important and explained the whole reason why the V2 gun was left handed. He was a lefty, well, now he was. It was his cover for his most recent mission. Speaking of missions….that's what he was doing Friday night.

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><p><strong>AN: How was it, tell me by dropping a review! Can anyone geuss what he was doing Friday night? A huge hug, and a cookie, for the person who gets it right. And a virtual high-five for those who try! :)<br>**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry for the delay, but here is the chapter. **

**Reviews:**

**Albany: Thanks, the plot will come together shortly. :)**

**SCORPIAssassin: Thank you, and I love both Alex Rider and Burn Notice also. :)**

**Lots of help from my beta, Dark Rook, thank you.**

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><p>FLASHBACK:<p>

He was lying in bed, relaxing, when some idiot burst in. Alex immediately reached for his gun and pointed it at the intruder only to be disappointed to see Kevin. He had a new haircut, Alex realized. A brown military cut.

"Geez man, the boss finally lets you have a gun, and you're waving the fucking thing around like it's a toy," Kevin told him as he walked over to his bed and crashed onto it.

"I'm just nervous," he lied.

Kevin laughed. "Hell, Danny, we were all nervous on our first delivery. It's not that bad. If you stick to the plan you might not die."

"Oh, that's reassuring. Get out."

"Fine, fine. Be ready in a few hours; we need to have everything packed by then. And for some reason, the boss is coming on this one. I wonder why." Kevin strolled out the door.

"Yeah, I wonder why," Alex murmured to himself. He repetitively turned his gun over in his left hand. Something at the back of his mind was tugging at him, telling him the whole situation was amiss. He ignored the feeling for now; he had to concentrate on the drug deal he was going through with in a few hours. Moreover, he could not give away his identity no matter what happened. If his 'boss' was suspicious, things would go downhill fast.

After a few hours of cleaning, taking apart, and reassembling his V2, his mind became clearer. He went to the garage, meeting up with Kevin, George, Ronald, and Charles there.

He had grown used to Kevin's stupid bickering in the short time he was here. It was not that Kevin was dumb; he was actually rather smart. However, he acted as if he was thirteen rather than thirty. He was all street smarts and no common sense.

George, on the other hand, was like a teacher. Even though he was the same age as Kevin, he was smart enough to know not to jump into something without thinking first. George had slick black hair and a suit.

Ronald and Charles were cousins. They both had the exact same suit, different colors. Ronald had ruffled black hair and a gray suit, whereas Charles had ruffled brown hair and a tan suit. For some reason they absolutely hated him. He did not know why, he would have thought they knew who he really was, even though that was not possible. He had only been here a month. From what Kevin had told him, he was the youngest person ever to join their group. Did they hate him, or were they really just jealous?

All four of them were currently standing around a van that screamed 'drug deal'. Seriously, a white van? Couldn't they have gotten something atleast a little less conspiculous.

"Hey, Danny, why are you late?" George asked.

"I was cleaning my gun."

"Hold on," Charles said. "Boss let you have a gun this early? We couldn't have a gun until we were at least three months in, but now you can stroll in and demand a gun when you've been here less than a month?"

Ronald scoffed. "Do you even know how to fire one?"

Alex sighed, and then nodded his head. "Well enough."

"'Well enough' will get you killed on this job," Ronald said.

"Hell, it could get one of us killed!" Charles pushed Alex roughly against the side of the van.

"Hey, Charles, leave him alone," Kevin said.

"Great, now Kevin is fighting your battles for you." Ronald laughed.

"Stay out of this, Kevin," Charles yelled.

George stepped forward, fearing something was going to happen, but backed off when he saw Boss stroll in.

"Charles, you have better control that temper of yours or _you _will get us killed. Leave the kid alone, he passed the range before I gave him back his gun," Boss told him as he walked over to the little group. "And by the way, he has a better shot than you did when you first enrolled." He smirked when he saw the look Charles shot Alex.

"Danny, what the hell are you wearing?" Boss yelled at him.

Alex looked down at his attire, then back up at his 'boss', who knew his real name after Alex had caught him eavesdropping on him. So far his mission was partly a success. No one knew exactly who they were working for, except for him, but he would keep quiet about that for now.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked, putting his hand in his sweatshirt pocket. His light-wash denim too big on him as he had lost a lot of weight.

"It looks like you've been in the streets!"

Alex cocked his head while he told the truth. "Well, you did find me in the streets Boss. Why does it matter?"

Boss sighed and pointed at George. "Explain it to the kid; I don't have time." He then made his way towards the van and gestured for everyone else to follow.

George made his way over to Alex and sighed as he put his arm around his shoulders. "Listen kid, if you look like trash then no one is going to take you seriously. That's what's wrong with your street clothes. And Boss likes to make an impression, so clean and fast is his motto, not bum and screw up. You get me?"

Alex nodded. "I get you," he said. They slowly made their way over to the van.

"Okay, so you," Boss said as he pointed to Ronald, "and Kevin will be spotters. George, I need you to smooth things over with the receptionist while Charles and Danny go in for the money. I'll wait outside."

Kevin and Ronald glanced at each other before nodding. George nodded while watching Alex's reaction. Charles was fuming.

"No way in hell I'm doing a job with this druggy!"

Alex stared at his feet while George came to his defense. "Hey, the kid's doing better, hell of a lot better than you when you first came."

That was what Alex's cover was for this operation, an undercover druggy. He had to get into a gang, which he had, so now he had to play the part.

"Doesn't matter, Charles, you will give the drugs to Room two-hundred and forty-seven," Boss said before things got out of hand, "And Danny will collect the money."

"What, you don't trust me with the money, so you're giving it to the kid?" Charles asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, but for the most part I don't trust Danny with the drugs," Boss said. He glanced at Alex, who stared at him.

"Right, let's head out," Boss said as they got in the van.

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><p>George was in front of the secretary's desk, talking words of wisdom; the secretary soaked the words up like they were rays from the sun. Kevin was off to the side, sitting on a couch and reading a magazine as Ronald was talking to the manager, complaining about the long trip he had just endured. If you went up two floors and looked left, you could see Alex walking down a red-carpeted hallway. Alex followed the door numbers, coming up to 420. Exactly seven doors away from his pickup.<p>

He sighed as he came to yet another turn he would ignore, glancing down it briefly before faltering altogether. There, a few yards away, stood Charles. Smirking.

He was not supposed to be here. According to the plan, he was supposed to drop the drugs off and then be gone, with Alex coming half an hour later to get the money. Yet here he was, standing in the hallway, smirking at him. Why was he still here?

Charles turned away and walked away, not saying a word. Alex continued walking the rest of the way, or at least tried. He was two doors away when a cop came around the corner. _Shit,_ Alex thought. He turned around and started walking, but only got a few feet before a cop came around the other corner.

_Damn-it, this was a set up from the start_, Alex thought as he took the corridor Charles was in a second ago. He practically ran down the hallway, keeping his head forward, not looking back once.

Until a shot shook the air.

Alex stopped and moved to the side to avoid the oncoming bullet. He turned and faced the cops, his hands raised above his head.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Alex asked. The one who fired the gun moved closer, the second cop took out his gun and pointed it at the ground. He was obviously confident that his partner had everything under control; that was his first mistake.

The first cop was approaching rather slowly, almost as if he was afraid. "Are you

Danny Watson?" he asked.

Alex looked at him before shaking his head. "No. You must be mistaken. Why, what'd he do?"

"I think you're Danny. You are under arrest for drug dealing and use," the officer said. He stepped forward one more time. That was when Alex made his move.

He whipped his gun out so fast the guy did not even see it until it was pointed at him. Alex fired once at the middle of his chest. The cop had a bulletproof vest on so it would only sting like hell. Alex didn't waste any time watching him go down, turning to the other person in the hallway.

The second cop had snapped to attention as soon as the shot rang out, but in a matter of seconds the gun that shot his best friend was now pointed at him. Then he made his second mistake; neglecting to wear a bulletproof vest. The second cop fired at Alex, though he wasn't fast enough. Alex fired at the officer and didn't miss.

He had aimed at the officer's shoulder. Fortunately, the cop had missed him, barely nicking his leg. Alex wondered if that was where he was aiming in the first place. Either that or the cop had a horrible aim.

He did not linger on it too long as he shot down the hallway towards the Room two-hundred and forty-seven, leaving the bloodied officers where they were. He put his gun back in place. As soon as he arrived at the room, he pounded on the door.

The door opened to reveal a younger man, probably mid-twenties. Alex held his hand out. "Can I have the money?"

The guy shook his head. "No, I already gave it to that other guy. Get lost." He shoved him out of the doorway and slammed the door shut.

Alex could not believe what was happening. Everything was going wrong; he had to get out, now. He ran to the end of the hallway, flinging open the window and looking down and around. He saw, not that he did not already know, that he was on the second floor. He wasn't very high up either.

He glanced at his silver watch, the ten glowing a bright red. The hands on the clock said twelve thirty six. Six minutes after he should have been outside; the cop trouble had cost him a lot of time. Without a second thought, he jumped out into the night.

He hit the ground rolling, and skidded to a stop. He jumped up and pushed his bullet wound to the back of his mind.

Looking around, he saw that he was not far from the meeting area. He jogged to the end of the building and looked around the corner. He saw a white van pull away. He ran towards it; it had to be theirs.

He was only a few feet away before it started to gain some speed. He redoubled his efforts and a few second later he was behind the van, running to keep up with it. He banged at the back of it, on the hatch. The van stopped so suddenly Alex almost ran into it.

He was got his breathing under control as he stood off to the side, waiting for them to open the back doors. Soon enough, the back doors swung open, almost taking Alex out in the process. Alex moved a few feet away from the van, sitting on the ground to avoid further injury.

George jumped out of the van and smiled at Alex, holding his hand out as a friendly gesture. Alex sighed and took his hand. George hoisted him up and pushed him in the van, closing the doors behind him.

George sat down next to Kevin while Alex took in his surroundings. The van started up again. He noticed the whole front of the van was blocked off with what appeared to be a metal sheet, obstructing the view. There was only a small hit hatched window in the middle of the otherwise smooth piece of metal. Even though there was a window, Alex could not see anything on the other side.

Alex turned his attention to the escape routes. There were the back doors he just came from, which had a tight metal hatch for the lock. The doors were not locked now, though if it was it would take a heck of a lot of strength to pry them back open. There were also two sliding doors, one on each side of the van. Upon closer inspection, Alex noted that they were sealed shut by a simple metal flip lock.

Alex, George and Kevin were on one side of the van, Charles and Ronald sat on the opposite. No one was talking, which Alex found odd. This was normally quite a loud group, especially when they all hated each other. When they did, they found any possible way to torment and nag one another. You would think they were actually teenagers at school instead of grown men in a gang.

There was one thing Alex was not the least bit surprised about. Charles was staring at him. He would have glared back, but right now he was supposed to be Danny Watson, not Alex Rider. He sighed and directed his eyes to the floor.

Kevin broke the silence by asking a question Alex knew he could not avoid. "Hey, Danny, why'd you take so long?"

"I got held up," Alex said, shifting his gaze from the floor to Kevin.

"By who?" George asked. His head was tilted in thought.

Alex mumbled something inaudible. "What?" Kevin asked.

Alex sighed. "The cops."

"Did you tell them?" There was a small hint of concern in Ronald's voice.

"I said nothing," Alex said. He was not lying.

"Obviously you said something, otherwise they wouldn't have held you up," George said.

"I didn't do anything. They just started shooting at me."

"Right, they shot at you," Charles said, sarcasm tainting his every word. "So, tell me, what did you do?"

"I shot back," Alex said in a calm voice.

There was a small silence as everyone stared at Alex.

Ronald broke the silence. "My god, you killed the cops." He shook his head.

Alex sighed, "No, you don't understand."

"Geez, the kids in denial," Charles laughed.

"We all have our first kill, so it doesn't matter," George told Alex. "So where's the money?"

Alex's face fell. "I don't have it," he whispered. George was about to ask if he had heard right, but he didn't get the chance. The van suddenly stopped. Alex saved himself from lurching out of his seat by grabbing onto the side of the van. Everyone else did as well, except for Kevin, who landed on the van floor with a thump.

The back doors flew open, the force hitting the van with a crack. Boss stood there with his fists at his side. "What do you mean you don't have the money?" Boss yelled.

"Well – " Boss grabbed Alex's arm mid-explanation and pulled him out of the van.

Alex caught himself and stood up, glaring at the boss. Boss glared right back.

"George!" Boss barked out. "Search him."

George came over, looking down at Alex. "Sorry, Danny," George whispered. "Spread your arms."

Alex continued to glare at Boss while he did as he was told. George searched him, only finding his gun and nothing else. "He's clean boss. Except his gun," George took out one of the magazines and flipped it open. "He's missing two bullets."

"So he killed two cops?" Kevin asked while looking at Alex. He did not think Danny could even fire a gun, let alone shoot at someone, land a hit, and kill him. Was it possible? Kevin glanced at George, who looked worried too.

"I don't care about that, where's the money?" Boss yelled. Alex calmly glared at him

"I told you, I don't have it."

"Probably hid it somewhere." Ronald jabbed him.

"No." Alex shook his head. How was he going to get out of this one?

"Just tell us where it is kid, or you're going to be in a whole world of hurt," Charles said as he shoved him in the shoulders.

Alex tripped over his feet, but George caught him before he hit the ground. Alex murmured a quick thanks as George let go of his arm. Alex was grabbed by the front of his sweatshirt.

He was now face to face with Boss, who glared at him. It was not very intimidating, but Alex feigned fright.

He looked down at the hand clenched around the warm fabric. "I told you –"Alex's words were cut short when boss lifted his gun and slammed it into Alex's temple.

The blow was hard enough to knock him out, but not enough to kill him. Alex welcomed the darkness as he slumped forward, his body going limp. Boss threw his body to the ground, turning to walk back to the van.

"What the hell was that?" George yelled, going to assist Alex.

"I did what was necessary," Boss said. "And don't tell me you're sticking up for him. If you are I will kill you on the spot."

"No," George said.

"Good." Boss nodded, turning his back to the van. "Carry him to the van, I know he is keeping something. And thieves never get away."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What will happen to Alex now? Answer to see of you are right. Or simply drop a review for your thoughts, I would like to know how my story is going. :D<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Hey you guys, I am not dead, as you can see. :) Just wanted to tell you that I am still writing, though this is the smallest chapter I have ever written, it is here. I am sort of struggiling with school, and into the first two weeks at that. So my biggest priority is to focus on school and pass this year. Well this ramble has gone on for a while let me end it with thanking people!

Reviews:

_- Your name is blank...so yeah, thank you though!

hello- HI! Thanks for reviewing. Well if you did watch Burn Notice that would help a bunch...or you could go to Wikipedia...your choice. As for MI6, you will have to wait and find out!

Huge thanks to my patient beta: Dark Rook.

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><p>CHAPTER: 4<p>

Pain is what he felt, and darkness is what he saw. He started to panic, but forced himself to stop before it got out of hand. He took a few breaths, grateful that he still had air. That had a calming effect; slowly he started to remember what happened.

He went to go get the money and the client had already paid Charles. He had been set up and caught by the cops prior to that. He had shot them both, but didn't get away unscratched, sustaining a small nick to the leg. After that, he had caught up with his "team". They started asking questions about the money and then…

Alex sighed, that was why his head hurt so much. The last thing he remembered was his boss lifting him off the ground by his sweatshirt, threatening him, and then…nothing. Alex should have seen that coming; he was going to get back at his boss

Alex soon found out that the darkness he saw was because his eyes were closed. He didn't dare open them on the account of the fact that he felt other people in the room. He felt stiff, shifting ground beneath him. So he certainly wasn't on a bed, and he was moving. This made him suspect he was still in the van.

But instead of the normal five people he would feel, he could only sense three people in the van. So what had happened to the other two? Before Alex could question the whereabouts of the two others, those present started speaking.

"Why were you late?" A voice rung about the back of the van.

"God, George, you don't listen. I already told you, the client wanted to talk to me."

"Okay Charles, since when do clients want to 'talk'?" George asked.

"Clients talk to me all the time. They evidently don't like you," Charles said.

Alex pinpointed exactly where they were. They were sitting opposite of each other, he could tell that much. From the sound of their voices, Charles was closest to the hatch, while George was near one of the side doors. They evidently did not want to be next to each other, big surprise there. Alex was currently on the floor in the middle of the van, facing Charles with his back to George.

Moving as carefully as possible to avoid the attention of his team, he clenched his wrist muscles to test the durability of the handcuffs. They were definitely the worst handcuffs he had ever been in – most handcuffs were made out of steel, but these felt like plastic. He came to the conclusion that they were a pair of zip-strips.

They would be a heck of a lot easier to get out of than actual handcuffs; however, his hands were still behind his back. If he tried to get out of them by using brute force right now, he would lose. If he wasn't careful he would end up twisting his shoulder. He would have to be standing up for him to get of them safely.

Alex was quiet for the next five minutes, as were George and Charles. He then decided that it was time to make his consciousness known.

Alex groaned and scrunched his eyes together in a fake act of pain. His head did hurt, though when he opened his eyes he was shocked to see Charles's face merely inches away from his own. He almost kicked Charles in the knee, which would have dislocated it, but stopped himself. He knew that if he got jittery now, things would quickly take a turn for the worse.

Charles smirked when he saw that Alex looking up at him, eyes slightly unfocused. "Hey, the brat's finally awake." He looked Alex in the eyes. "Where did you hide the money?"

"Charles, leave Danny alone," George said. "He was knocked out, and yet the first thing you do is get in his face and question him."

"Well yeah, we need that money. And he's trying to take it for himself."

"Will you get out of my face?" Alex demanded.

"Don't need to get grumpy." Charles moved out of the way, and walked over to the separating metal. "Hey, Boss, the kid woke up."

The van suddenly stopped. Charles hit his head on the metal frame; George remained upright. And Alex, who was in the process of sitting up, got knocked back down. He grumbled something about "restricted hands" that went unheard to the rest of the people in the van.

The main back door was opened, this time in a more proper manner than before. Boss stood before them, his eyes locked on Alex's.

"Get him up."

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><p>AN: Thank you for reading, now will you review? Please!<p>

Also, I know this is going really slow, but the gang, not Scooby Doo, will meet Alex next chapter. And the next chapter will be longer! Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Finally got this in gear, and writing again. Sorry for the short, yet long break. But the next chapter is here, and like I promised, longer than the last one. Thank you for all the reviews, they gave me motivation!

Deep regards to my beta: DarkRook, who is very paitent and helpful.

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><p>Chapter: 5<p>

Within the next second, Alex was lifted off of the floor and onto his feet. Then, without any warning, a fist hit his unprotected face, knocking him backwards and into the metal sheet. He fell to the floor with a small thump. He was grabbed by his elbow, and dragged up.

His head was pounding even more, and he felt blood running down his face. The boss had on a ring, wait, scratch that, multiple gaudy, bulky, rings. Alex could feel the stings on his cheek, but he pushed the pain out of his mind and focused on what he was here for. Charles didn't mind doing that for him, shaking him until Alex looked up at the boss.

"Alright, Danny." Boss smirked in Alex's face. "Let's start over. Where did you put the money?"

Alex didn't say anything. What could he say? Oh yeah, Charles took the money; no, they would never believe him. Not by a long shot. They trusted Charles, to some extent, and with him being the new guy, he was still on trial. He could be killed if he stepped out of line. So he did the only thing he could do, keep his mouth shut and hope that he wouldn't get shot.

"Well, are you going to say something?" Charles asked.

George was standing in the background, looking at Alex with a sense of uneasiness. Was he afraid of him? Or was it a caring look?

"I have no clue where the money is," Alex told them. And he could feel the fist holding him up, clench tighter.

"Try again."

Alex doubled over as a fist was slammed into his stomach. His knees hit the floor; he didn't have anything holding him up. He coughed and wheezed as he tried to catch his breath. He was about to get up when the click of metal made him freeze.

"I should just kill the bastard right now. Save us a hell of time in the future," Boss said as he pointed the gun at Alex's head.

"You can't do that," George said, coming to Alex's defense.

"And why not? I can do anything I want to. I brought this kid into this business and I could easily take him out."

"What about his family? Surely they would be suspicious if he just turned up dead one day."

Charles started laughing, "This kid is twenty-one. And he was on the streets; his parents probably kicked him out because he was a druggy.

"See George, I could easily double tap him, leave him somewhere, and be on my way. And no one would miss him."

Alex decided to make his move while they were planning out his death. He couldn't sit here and watch his world fade before him all because he didn't react in time. So in one smooth motion he stood up, clenched his fists together and snapped them apart. The tie chaffed against his skin, but it gave way and fell to the floor. That small distraction was enough; he lashed his foot out and dislocated his boss's knee. As Boss was heading towards the ground, he pulled the trigger.

Alex shoved Boss's hand away, and the bullet went into the side of the van. A small hole appeared in the door, and Alex realized that door could easily have been his head. Charles was the first one to respond. The van was a tight fit so when he stepped forward, he was in Alex's personal space.

Alex lashed out, punching Charles's nose as the other lifted his gun. Charles toppled over, unconscious and bloody, his gun hitting the floor and skidding to the side. Alex then turned towards the final person standing.

George had Alex's old gun aimed right at him.

"Let's take it easy Danny, don't need anyone getting hurt," George said in a calm but fierce voice.  
>Alex glared at him, taking in his structure. His hands were shaking slightly, and his eyes looked unfocused. Before he could say anything, Alex was falling backwards. His head hit the floor with a crack, but he managed to stay focused.<p>

Until he had a tremendous weight on top of him, and something blocking his airway. Boss was sitting on Alex's chest, chocking him.

"George, go get the bottle from the front, should have made him swallow the stuff. Would've killed him easily instead of wasting all this time," Boss said as he looked Alex in the eye.

"You're a huge pain, you know that? One of the worst newbies I've had in a while, and by far the stupidest. Why take the money, and act as if you could get away scotch free? Ha, that's a good one."  
>Alex was losing air, and fast. He tried not to panic when George came back with whatever Boss had been talking about. George handed Boss the bottle. It had a clear color and no label.<p>

"You see Danny, this," Boss held up the bottle for him to see clearly, "Is a strong acid and you are going to swallow all of it. No doubt you will die in less than five minutes, but we can all watch and see, huh."

Alex did not have time to blink as his jaw was forced open. He released his grip on his boss's wrists and his right hand flew to his boss's back, where he felt the gun. It was a miracle that he landed on the gun without accidentally triggering it. He yanked it free and fired two shots.

One shot went through his boss's hand, making the bottle drop. The other went towards George, successfully hitting him in the shoulder. The acid splashed out of its container, hitting him in the face. He closed his mouth, and rolled away as soon as he felt the searing pain. He couldn't open his eyes, they burned in pain, and he was unable to stop it.

He lashed his foot out, and was lucky when it hit his boss in the temple. He fell down with a thud, next to Alex.

Alex clenched the gun he still had and stood up slowly. He quickly made his way to the sliding door, positioning the gun on the lock that kept him trapped, and fired.

The clank of metal against metal told Alex that he had hit the target. He swung open the door, and stiffened. He slowly turned in the direction George was in. George sat there on the floor, bleeding as he watched Alex open his eyes; they were a shocking dull white. But before he could do anything Alex was stepping off the side of the van.

Alex relaxed as his foot hit the concrete; it was slippery and he felt the cold wave hit him. He tilted his head up, and opened his eyes, letting the rain water sooth his blind eyes. After that he blinked a few times, unhappy that he still could not see. So he put his hood up, and started to walk.

End Flashback.

Alex slumped in defeat as he recalled what had happened in less than three days to turn his whole mission around. He moved to the left to avoid knocking into a person. He then stepped down the small incline that went into the street.

The fierce screeching of brakes filled his ears.

* * *

><p>"When is Michael going to meet us?" Fiona asked Sam.<p>

They were at an old café, which sold beer, positioned at a table in an uncrowded corner. Fiona was filing her nails; Sam had a beer in his hands.

Sam took a chug and set the bottle down on the glass table. "No clue, but he said it was important."

"And he didn't think of stating as to why we had to rush out here, just to have him not show up?"

"You know Mike, full of surprises. Oh look, there he is," Sam pointed in a behind Fi.

She turned around and saw Michael walking up towards them. He took a seat in between the two of them and then started to speak.

"Guys, we got a problem."

"See, Fi?" Sam sneered, while Fiona rolled her eyes. "I told you it was important."

"Right, well go on Michael. What's so important that we had to wait here for an hour?" Fiona asked as she looked at Michael.

"Someone came into my mom's house. They had a gun."

"Wow Mikes. Is Maddie alright?" Sam asked as he took another drink.

Michael nodded. "Yeah, she's alright. At least she didn't seem hurt. But the thing that confuses me is that guy didn't appear like he wanted anything. He didn't look like he was trying to rob the place, or shoot us dead. Actually, he gave off a vibe of uncertainty."

"What do you mean by that?" Fiona asked.

"I mean that he had no idea where he was. Mom said he came there drunk Friday night, yet he asked what street he was on. He hid his emotions well, and it didn't help the fact that he was wearing a pair of my sunglasses. He almost held himself as a hit-man yet he didn't kill us."

"Wait so where's your mom now?" Fiona asked him.

"At my flat, gave her a gun too."

"Hey you think that maybe he could be a spy? If he hid himself so well, why not?" Sam suggested.

"I'm not sure." Michael shook his head. "No spy would ever walk into a stranger's house, let alone stay, and make themselves known a few days later. It just doesn't add up."

"Your right, that is strange," Fiona said. "So what do you want us to do about it?"

"I want help on tracking him down."

* * *

><p>Alex sat in a cold cell. It had a bed and that was it. Although, Alex had to admit, this cell was nicer than some of the others he had been in. And no one had tortured him yet.<p>

After he had walked into the street, he just so happened to run into the cops. They almost hit him too, and the next thing Alex knew he was being thrown to the ground and arrested for public disruption and J-walking. Who had ever heard of being arrested for J-walking? After that they searched him and found his gun. Well that just made things worse, all because he didn't have a permit. And they confiscated the wallet he had on him, though it wasn't much help. Having his fake identity and some expired credit cards.

And he couldn't exactly tell them that he was from MI6, no, that would compromise the mission. Hell, who was he fooling, that mission over and done with. It had been finished a few days ago; he should have just packed up and left. Except he stayed, and now look at the trouble he had gotten in too.

Well, he did suppose he could call MI6 and explain where he was. Though he decided against it, in fact he hadn't been in contact with them for almost a year. Blunt would be pleased to hear that he had finally failed a mission, if he hadn't figured it out already. However Alex found that highly unlikely, after all he had killed—

The cell doors banged open, Alex was in such deep thought that he hadn't even noticed the footsteps approaching the cell. He cursed himself; he needed to be more aware of his surroundings.

"You've made bail," a guard said from the other side of the cell.

'Wait what?' Alex thought in confusion. Who would bail him out? He only knew a total of five people in Miami.

He got up and made his way blindly towards the door. Once he was there he had to stop himself from flinching when the guard grabbed his shoulder.

"This way," he said as he guided Alex though the halls and towards the front of the building.

Alex knew the exact moment they had stepped outside. Not only did the pressure hit him, the opening door let the air rush out, and the temperature abruptly dropped. The most obvious clue of all was the sudden chatter, and the hustle and bustle of cars. The thing almost unnoticeable was the sun.

The sheer brightness of it upset his unseeing eyes. He guessed that while he healed, if he did at all, and after that his eyes would be over sensitive to the light. The blurriness just shifted slightly and black dots danced with the vast whiteness that covered everything else. He was then grateful that he had stolen the glasses; if he hadn't then he was sure that the sun would have harmed his eyes even further. Deeming that the sun was a high risk, he put it in the back of his mind to never look at direct light again.

"Here you go, kid."

Alex extended his hand slightly and closed it when he felt the familiar leather.

"Take that and do try to stay out of trouble," the guard turned around and left Alex standing in front of the Miami Police Department.

Alex sighed as he ran his fingers over the wallet, his wallet to be more specific. He was now thankful MI6 always took his ID away when he went on missions.

He pocketed the wallet and turned towards the stairs. His hand clutched the railing the whole way down.

Once Alex's feet met the flat surface of the sidewalk he turned left. He walked a bit before he suddenly stopped. Sam was directly in front of him.

"Whoa. Hey, sorry there," Sam apologized with his hands raised in the air.

Alex nodded. He moved slightly towards the right and continued on. He had to fight to keep himself calm when Sam grabbed his arm.

"Hey, is that the way to thank the guy who bailed you out of jail?" Sam asked with a small smirk on his face.

Alex froze up. So this was the man who bailed him out of jail. Alex wished he could see him; it would make it so much easier. Maybe he had seen him, or met him somewhere and just forgot. No, he didn't recognize the voice; he had no idea who this person who stood in front of him was.

Alex was frustrated. His eyesight was ruining everything. Even though he was a spy and assassin, much to his displeasure, he didn't necessarily need his sight. He had his other senses to help, but it certainly made things much, much harder.

"Thank you," Alex mumbled and shrugged off Sam's hand.

"That's the spirit!" Sam said as he hit Alex's shoulder. Alex winced and moved away from him.

"Have a good day," Sam shouted at him as he made his way down the street.

Alex sighed in relief as he finally got away from the weirdest sane man he had met. He continued walking the way he was going. He slowed down when he got to an alley, listening to any car motors that could be coming. He didn't hear anything, so he stepped into the street, only to faulter.  
>A blue car immediately pulled out of the alley, almost hitting Alex, and would have if he had not stopped in time.<p>

Fiona was driving while Michael sat in the passenger seat. Michael got out, and shut the door; he made his way over towards Alex. Fi pulled the car back in the alley, while Alex stepped back a few spaces.

He knew it was bad enough that he could sense a presence coming towards him, and fast. But it was horrible when he felt someone come up behind him.

Sam approached from behind and grabbed Alex by the shoulder. As soon as his hand connected Alex threw an elbow back. Sam doubled over in pain, and Michael made his move. He threw a punch at Alex , who grabbed his fist and knocked it to the side.

Alex's back was now facing a scummy brick wall. He sucked in a breath as both Michael and Sam moved towards him. Alex knew he was in a tight spot and needed to get away. He had no idea why this idiot wanted him, or who his partner in crime was.

"Let's just take it easy," Michael said.

Alex stiffened, he recognized the voice. It was the guy from this morning.

"Michael," Alex said shortly. "I told you if you followed me there would be consequences."

"Doesn't matter, I have questions. And you will provide answers. Now get in the car."

Alex shook his head, and pushed his back farther into the wall. "I'm not going with you."

"Don't think you got a choice, kid," Sam said as he moved closer to Alex's left, blocking him in.

When Sam moved closer Alex struck him with a swift uppercut and Sam stumbled back, holding his jaw in pain. Alex came at him again, only to get tackled.

Michael sat on top of Alex, his gun positioned at his head. "You ready to try this again?"

Alex nodded his head, as much movement Michael would allow.

"Glad we're on the same terms." Michael smirked and hoisted Alex up by the arm. Alex didn't protest as they made their way to the car.

* * *

><p>"What the hell Kevin, God," Ronald said as Kevin punched him in the leg. He glared at Kevin from his position in the passenger seat.<p>

"Look, look." Kevin pointed out the window and Ronald followed his line of sight. And he was surprised at what he saw. Danny.

"That does look like him, call the boss."

"Right," Kevin said. He was already dialing the number.

"Hey, Boss, we found him," Kevin said as he watched Danny get dragged in the alley. "Looks like he has some friends that aren't happy with him."

"_Follow him," _his boss's voice said through the other line._ "But don't do anything rash. I want to wait for the right moment."_

* * *

><p>AN: Tah Dah! The long waited chapter five is done. So how was it? Also, when will the right moment be for the boss, and what will happen? Plus, what questions does Michael have for Alex, and does he have the right answers? Review please! Thank you, :)<p> 


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